


Resolution

by Tarchannon



Series: 2020 Universe [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: AU, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:18:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarchannon/pseuds/Tarchannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan obsesses over Scott and seeks relief in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> 1) 2020 Universe, February, 2021.  
> 2) Yes, the first part of this is a recap. Sorry - it's an early piece.  
> 3) Logan POV. Originally posted 05/27/2002.

He was driving me insane.

I slammed the door of my room shut, nearly popping the hinges. Before I had gotten two steps, the sweat-soaked T-shirt was off and thrown in a corner and the cross-trainers were being toed off.

Ever since I had arrived back at the Academy, Scott Summers has been driving me up the wall and down the other side.

“Aarrrrggggh!” I shouted in frustration, not caring who heard.

The knot came loose on my sweatpants, and they fell to my ankles as I shuffled to the bathroom. I stopped to slip the leg over my foot, first standing on one leg, then the other as the pants came off with the white socks. Naked, damp, and rank, I headed to the shower. 

After an hour of disassembling robots and killing holographic enemies, I was still wound up tight and the release I needed wasn’t going to come through fighting. 

From the instant we saw each other on the day I came back, I haven’t been able to think of anyone else. I had turned to see him on the stairs, and he had turned that elusive thousand watt smile in my direction. I couldn’t breathe – it was like seeing my first sunrise. 

Of course, we were interrupted by Marie throwing herself into my arms, and when I turned back to look for him, he was gone. It wasn’t until later, after I found out that he and Jean had broken up, that I had dared to think I had a chance. We shared a glance through the dining room door before we were interrupted again. Jean had pulled me back out into the hallway to tell me about their relationship implosion, and I think that’s when it happened. We had gone back in to dinner, and from that point on, he wouldn’t even look at me. 

Frustrated, I opened the shower door, literally restraining myself to keep from breaking the glass, and I flipped the water on, spinning the knob all the way to hot. I slumped back onto the toilet seat, welcoming the rising steam.

Later than night, Jean had told me that he was interested in me. He was interested!

But you’d never know it from his behavior. Since that day, we’ve gone on several missions, and he’s barely said a dozen words to me outside of giving orders. Whenever I’m around, he just sets his jaw and gets that stony look. I even tried to talk to him, but he always seems to have something more important to do.

And it’s not like I don’t know he wants me. I can smell it on him – in the hallway, in the gym, in the changing room on the command level after missions. I catch him staring at me sometimes when he thinks I’m not looking, his face snapping away when I turn in his direction. I can feel those eyes like the sun on my skin. 

What the hell is the matter with him! 

I pounded my fist on my knee, hard, afraid that I’d break anything else. The pain and the little trickle of blood from my fist helped cool my anger. 

The steam rose, filling the room and my lungs, the lazy eddies helping cool the fire, transforming it. I heaved myself up and got under the scalding spray, reaching to adjust the temperature as an afterthought. I let the water stream down my chest, slicking the hair down to the skin, forming a stream that ran between pumped pecs only to shatter on deeply furrowed abs. The broken stream wound like fiery ivy tendrils as they wrapped around hips, thick thighs, and a substantial cock heavy with need. 

I flexed under the heat, forcing the striations in muscle and the large veins to pop across my chest, pulsing and relaxing, working out the strains of the day.

The sound of the water brought another shower to mind, one that had featured stolen glimpses of my strange obsession. 

It had been after the mission to Dayton. He had been covered in mud from trying to pull the little girl out of the storm sewer where she had hidden. Normally, he showered in his room after missions, but this time he had walked right into the locker room showers, uniform and all. I had nearly bolted, afraid of my reaction to the sight of him under the water would drive him further away. After I had heard the water running for a minute or two, I just decided to go for it. Caution had never my strong suit. 

I remember Scott was standing under the water when I padded to the open shower room doorway. Naked to the waist and facing away, water streamed through his hair and he raised his hands to strip the mud. His huge biceps had tensed, and the cords in his forearms rippled. Scott’s back flexed, muscles bunching and releasing as he worked the dirt from his dark brown hair.

Alone in the steam, I moaned at the memory. My dick had responded, hardening, flushed and big. I took it in hand, palming it roughly as I turned to allow the water to work on my back muscles. The water beat along my spine, running and falling in thick rivulets down the vee of my back to run into the fuzzy cleft of my ass and around hard, rectangular glutes. The warmth of the water trickling across my hole drew another moan, and I leaned forward, left hand on the tile, and flexed my lower back to spread my cheeks and increase the sensation. With a firm grip, I started to stroke my cock slowly, from base to tip and back. 

It had turned out that I didn’t have to worry about Scott seeing my reaction, as he showered without a visor or goggles. I would have sighed in relief, but I had caught my first real glimpse of his unadorned face, and the breath caught in my lungs. He was handsome, beautiful really, and he looked younger without the visor. He had strong features – an angular face with a square, slightly cleft chin, a strong jaw line, smallish perfect nose, and prominent cheekbones that made me think of the Inuit. His neck was thick and corded with muscle, sloping down to very wide shoulders for a man his height. Scott’s torso was trim, rippling with large, cut, defined muscles accentuated with a dusting of brown hair on the pecs and abs. I panted as the water splashed across the planes of that body.

The water was relaxing the muscles of my back, but the tension in my groin mounted. I straightened up using my left hand to encircle my testicles, tugging downward rhythmically as I stepped up my pumping.

I had drawn blood as I bit my lip to keep from groaning as I’d watched Scott peel off his leather pants. Underneath, he’d worn only a black jock. The wet leather was difficult to remove and I watched him bend and flex, runners’ thighs over weightlifters’ calves. And that magnificent ass!

I turned to rest my back against the tile as the heat within finally matched the steam of the room. I grabbed some soap, quickly lathering my groin and ass to provide more lubrication. I continued to pump my shaft, harder and now using a bit of a twist at the top. My left hand was working into my cleft, rubbing the ring of muscle there. I was moaning uncontrollably, little shudders starting to wrack the muscles of my thighs.

I had watched him soap his perfect bubble ass, and as his hand slipped between his cheeks, I had moaned out loud imagining that it was my hand. Scott must not have heard it, masked by the sound of the spray, because he continued with the soap, rubbing a thick lather on his chest, rubbing over hard erect nipples, as he turned toward me.

The shuddering of my thighs was growing stronger, and I slipped my left index finger just inside, massaging the muscle there. I was so hard it was almost painful, and I was leaking profusely, growling all the while. 

Then I saw his prick – perfect, beautiful, big. Partially erect. Time stood still as I watched him soap himself and on that first long pull down his soapy shaft, I’d come on the spot, untouched, in my uniform pants, sinking my teeth into my forearm to keep from crying out.

It was that thought, that memory, that pushed me over the edge. I reached up and brutally twisted my right nipple and I came shouting his name, not caring who heard me, not caring if the world was burning, because I already was. White jizz flew everywhere – my chest, my face, the shower door - and I watched almost detached, floating in ecstasy. My thighs, quivering with their last ounce of strength, gave out and I slid down the tile into the tub.

After a few minutes, my brain reconnected with my body and I hauled myself up to rinse off and exit the shower. I wrapped a towel around my waist, padded back into the bedroom, and sprawled over the bed. My shower session had taken the edge off, but my craving, my need, remained. 

What in the hell are you going to do, Logan? I asked myself. 

After thinking long into the night, I had no solution, no idea of how to get Scott to let me in. But I did know one thing – I was going to do it, no matter the cost, no matter the effort.

“I *will* have Scott Summers!” I growled to myself.


End file.
